just HOW can i SHOW YOU how you are HURTING ME

does anyone else ever wonder that???

as though the only way to express it is to become some miserable walking stick

to the point that they can’t help but notice

and then i think

…they won’t ever notice

ugh it doesn’t matter

when you know you’re hurting me and you just keep on GSDHGFUJGHKSDUGHKJ

he knows…so why doesn’t he stop…

i can’t keep believing i’m the problem.  my life is MINE.  i don’t owe you anything!

ah God why am i being treated like i need to prove my humanity to the one person whom i really really really wanted to respect me and to just accept who i am.  why?  i really

don’t

understand.

so i begin to feel subhuman.  and i want to fade again.  ayhhhhhh it’s so easy to go.  i just start to disappear.  step one is the decision to give up again and steps 2 through infinity are just keep absorbing everything and turning it into jealousy. 

i won’t subsist that way.  NO, dammit.  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! no one even reads this anymore and i’m not sure i even care.  it doesn’t change me or my life.  but i think i can change me and i can change my life.  friends along the way would be nice too.  i will probably just be venting from now on here, cant even say ill post any meritworthy writing anymore.  i just don’t have it in me right now.

but i’m trying with eeevvveeerrryyyttthhhiiinnnggg to take care of myself!  AND THAT’S IT!  NO MORE.  I DESERVE TO BE HAPPY.

interesting and sad to come back and see all the people i was following still stuck in this mess

i guess i am still climbing out, but ive got more of a vantage point than i had before.  from this perspective i can not only logically see but very much feel how not-worth-it returning to hell would be.  no more self abuse.  it’s my God-given right to feel happy, happy, happy.  especially when it’s hard to go on, for the strength i’ve been given.

obligatory happy new year to everyone :) at church today we were told, as sort of a typical sunday ice breaker, to turn to our neighbor and tell him/her a resolution we’ve made.  we hesitated with “uhhhs” a bit until the skinny girl next to me, a long-time acquaintance, said, “well, i’m trying to gain weight…”

i couldn’t hold it in.  i said, “me too!  how funny!  i wasn’t gonna say it…”  and she admitted the same and we laughed and laughed, and laughed yet more when our pastor made a joke about weight loss resolutions.  i wondered, wonder, if she’s like me.  maybe not.  i wouldn’t be surprised, but only because it just today occurred to me how possible that is.

people like us are everywhere.  and in  every stage of transformation.  some of us proving it is truly truly possible to take the reigns.

i encourage you all to consider making the same endeavor!

thank you so so so much.  you are too kind, and i adore your blog.

I didn’t fall asleep until 6:00am this morning, and I slept until 6:00pm this evening, at which point I rose only to feed my dog (read: I would probably still be out).

Some lifestyle this is, yeah?

Somewhere in me, I know that what (or whom) I secretly and in some deeply repressed way want is some Night in Shining Armor to come “save” me from my eating disorder.  Have you ever considered that?  I spend a lot of time considering it now.  In fact, I suspect it’s an impulse many of us have–to be searching constantly for the Right Person to Fix Everything; to keep our eyes peeled and our irregularly beating hearts open for the significant other to end all significant others.  That Relationship.  I don’t even care how shallow it sounds anymore.

I know I am.  I want it with everything in me–I’m unrelentingly dedicated, even if unintentionally, to this desire–which is awful, because that level of dedication should be reserved for God.  So I took the first and…simplest? step and ended my relationship with J, which had been as fixed as anything could possibly be: secure, stable, and firm for eighteen months and counting…but wait, I need to get my life in order, and I’m sorry, I have to learn to be happy without a boyfriend, and I know it’s cliche but it really is about me, but it’s about you too, even though I love you, and maybe someday eventually we’ll try it again, it’s possible after all, and really I’m really really sorry but I just really just have to do this now, I’ve been agonizing over it for ages.

When I can’t even rationalize my own decisions, how can I rationalize my eating disorder?

I need somebody to fix me.  I cannot do it alone.  But giving one’s heart to God does not instantaneously eliminate the desire to yield oneself recklessly to another human who can/will physically touch and hold and vocalize sweet, sonorous compliments which may or may not hold any meaning and laugh and hold hands.  Neither does it instantaneously squash the voice that tempts me with control that I don’t have and reminds me that control is what I need.  The desire and the voice diminish, become muffled; however, they fight back twice as hard.  I can feel them in my head and in my chest and in my stomach at all times, shoving and kicking and twisting relentlessly like an unborn child long overdue.

Am I really trying to get better?  That’s questionable; even within myself, arguable.  I am trying to better myself, stable myself as a person by reducing my dependency on others and finding my total sufficiency in the Father.  But in the mean time, suppressing the behaviors of the anorexic basket-case I am just seems like Faking It–moreso even than pretending not to struggle with them at all.

I wonder whether I’ll be awake wrestling these concepts again for the next six hours.

Crying and eating are the two most disgusting acts in which a person can be caught. And I am doing both. Of course, I’m not just crying, and I’m not just eating–especially not just eating. That’s too simple, too primal a word. I’m burying every human sensation alive inside my stomach to burn in the acids my body makes. That’s what this is. That’s the extent to which this aching has consumed me.

You know, I hate television; realistic series in particular. Watching humans exchange emotion like that, like it’s nothing, even though they regard it as if it were everything–even if they are actors, it’s like someone’s grabbing my wrist and wrenching my hand backwards. Uncomfortable–and unnecessary.

But ultimately unavoidable. Something washes over my heart; and then I’ve got two unwanted feelings to squelch: this one–whatever it is–and the total desire not to feel it or anything else at all.

I don’t want to die, but neither do I want to exist anymore, not strongly…not particularly. But I can’t simply kill myself–it’s just not in me; I need to disappear. God, yes, the thought is overwhelming, and I think it with such obstinate resolution that my heart tightens up like a violin string and actually almost breaks, stops in my chest: I can disappear! And I will! How incredible–no…How absolutely perfect.

People think it’s an ordinary choice one makes–the “quick” way to perhaps a more “desirable” body. The typical understanding goes apparently someway like this: wake up one day, stop eating entirely–on a whim, and drop those pesky Last Few Pounds, fast (pun somewhat intended). But then–? Well, who knows? The whole misconception is completely illogical. Does it yield success? Is there happiness at the end? Is prom exactly what you dreamed it would be in your size whatever dress? Do you feel worthy yet? If so, of what..?

Actually, it’s life in slow motion–subdued; and when you watch it, it’s got this manic quality to it, too–you’re laughing at yourself all the way, and sometimes, you’re crying. You cut out a bit and then a bit more and then a lot, really, and eventually you’re only surviving–subsisting, being, existing–because you haven’t half the energy required to do anything else. In fact, life becomes sleep, and when you’re awake (which is seldom the case), it’s all feeling and emotion and other painful nonsense, and in the end, you realize that you much prefer sleep anyway.

Why wake up just yet–why stop now?

Anorexia is a vacuum; a bell jar; an inner conflict.  And the spirit knows when the body and mind are struggling against one another as such.  I lie in my bed, many nights, unable to rest though exhausted by this pressure in my head which results unfailingly from the nonsense of having allowed my mind to degenerate insofar that it will not let me feed myself–not even when I am so hungry that I cannot sleep; when I cannot sleep solely because I am so hungry.

Last night or in the severely early hours of this morning–depending on one’s perspective, I can only suppose–I sat up in bed, dreadfully awake, wishing with such hysterical fervor for the ability to sleep that I was finally reduced to tears by the frustration which inevitably comes with being disallowed to eat when one’s body most craves nourishment. More than any other feeling, consideration, or concept I have encountered, the unrelenting fight between ravenous flesh and indignant intellect is bizarrely and especially unsettling.  Only in such moments as these, when I am absolutely alone and thus particularly lucid to the disturbance within me, I recognize how truly troubling, how utterly useless it all is–to pit self against self; to be forever caught between natural and unnatural desires; to be tasked with knowing that to please the world will be to disappoint self and vice-versa.

Eventually my body surrenders, and I slumber for an obscenely excessive number of hours before rising sometime in the afternoon–only because the light and the din of the raucous waking world refuse to leave me at peace, mind you.  On a day like today–wonderful, wilted Wednesday–over the next several hours, I will typically ingest roughly six hundred calories, drag myself into a scalding shower, scrub myself raw, apply a moderate amount of makeup, halfway dry my hair, and at last go through a dozen different outfits before deciding upon and settling on whichever makes me look the least “fat.”  In the hours following, I assume a new persona–I will drive to church, smile, greet dozens of people, share a hug with a cute boy (and feel almost normal in the moment that my heart palpitates due not to physical weakness but to human attraction), raise my arms during worship and mean it, genuinely enjoy an intriguing and thought-provoking message, tithe, chat some more with old friends(?), see a movie, have a few bites of somebody else’s snack, sip my bitter diet soda into oblivion, and disembark once more for home, where the miserable, insomniac cycle begins again.  My legs will ache and my throat will burn and my stomach will church, but I will not indulge.

I convince myself that this is all well and acceptable because I am “functioning.”  The scale is my only judge.  Nevermind my happiness–that can certainly wait for a lower number.  It always has…

I read somewhere that when one craves “anything and everything” as opposed to, say, salty or sweet food or specifically carbs, it is indicative of jealousy.

As I force the thousandth calorie into my throat, I realize how true this is indeed.  At the same time, I become suddenly aware of my own obscenely elevated heart rate and am injected by some force with the impulse to regurgitate–purging, if not stopping, would be a welcome change from this stuffing, hurting, palpitating–but I cannot and so do not; rather, I continue eating, binging. I am absolutely conscious and have absolute command over my actions; I know that what I am doing is entirely unfounded in any sort of healthy logic. Yet, I do not stop.

How easily Jealousy persuades me; how often I turn my face to her guile in submission. I may feel phantasmally blessed or on the cusp of a great blessing or simply nothing at all, but I never remain self-oblivious for very long: here is this great thing, this fabulous new person just given to me, and–! oh, we’ll never be so close as we were in that I dream I had once, when we were still strangers. Reality never compares.

Indeed, I have only Jealousy…Jealousy and food.

before i start updating, i had to reblog this.  i never do image posts but this is so truthful and so honest.

(Source: panicofpassion)

i’m about to update this blog with several posts from my wordpress.  i’m sorry…i have not been on top of stuff at all lately.

prepare thyselves for a month’s worth of blogging in the next five minutes.